Alphabet Soup
by EleanorKate
Summary: A is for...B is for...A series of short stories; one for each letter of the alphabet. Going to be a mix of everyone and not necessarily canon pairings/obvious friendships/relationships between characters. ps. if anyone wants a particular letter or combination of character send me a message and I'll do my best!
1. Chapter 1

A is for… **Artichokes ( _Sister Julienne and Fred Snr)_**

Sister Julienne had to admit that she was curious. It was the almost overpowering smell of manure that did it on that early winter's morning, drifting up to the open window of her cell from the garden below and she has resolved to find out precisely what was going on.

She had spotted that corner a few weeks ago looking remarkably tidy with the makeshift brick and glass structure propped up against the wall, but far too busy to be asking questions of their resident handyman and gardener so it slipped her mind. Now, with a moment to herself, she had decided to take a turn around the enclosed courtyard garden and her eyes were drawn again as she breathed in the fresh morning air.

"Purple Sicilian, Sister" Fred announced as he arrived by her side having spotted her from the coal room window inspecting his handiwork. He stood, hands proudly behind his back and rocking on his heels, dying to share his achievement and indeed _secret_ with someone.

"I beg your pardon?" she replied, genuinely having not heard him as she pondered lifting up the cover just for a peek and hoping she may not be found out.

"Purple Sicilian" he repeated with cheer in his voice. "Got to keep 'em covered in ve cold, ovverwise ve frost'll get 'em you see. Vey don't like ve frost you see Sister."

She was still confused and the Sister looked at him quizzically. "Artichokes, Sister!" Fred said, chest swelling with satisfaction and what could well be a job well done. Just a couple of weeks or more and they'd be perfect! "Fought I might branch out, y'know" he concluded with a shrug and a smile. "See what else I can sell down ve market!"

"Oh" Sister Julienne responded, more than used to Fred's various and not necessarily legal schemes for longer than she cared to recall. Artichokes were certainly a new one though and she refrained from making comment about Poplar's palete and whether some of the residents might be ready for such a purchase!

"In fact, Sister," he continued leaning forward. "Let's 'av a look. Vere due to be sproutin' nice soon enough".

The Nun took a tentative step forward watching him lift up the hip high greenhouse he had constructed from odds and ends scattered about Nonnatus; the lid groaning from its rusty brackets.

"Oh…." Sister Julienne began, looking down trying not to display her innermost feelings on the matter. What befell her eyes was, well... not very much at all if she had to be truthful and she saw Fred's shoulders drop. She also heard him cough, trying to disguise his obvious disappointment at the sight.

"Might try strawberries eh? Next time, Sister. Strawberries? Might be more suited to strawberries, eh?" He put the lid down quickly, disguising the almighty disaster in front of him, before he looked up. "Sister?..." His head shot from side to side. "Sister?..."

He sighed. She was out of sight already...


	2. Chapter 2

**B is for …Broomsticks (Shelagh and Angela)**

"Mum?"

"Mum? Can you help me?"

Angela stared at the back of her mother's head for a moment or two realising she wasn't going to get a response as she leant against the kitchen door frame. "Mum?" she asked again, becoming frustrated.

"And where have you been all day?" Shelagh asked, putting a plate carefully next to the sink.

"You know Mr Noakes took us all fishing!" Angela replied, rolling her eyes much like any other 15 year old girl. "He's just driven me all the way up here so I didn't have to get the bus back from their house! Can you help me with this please Mum?!"

Shelagh turned to find her daughter with black material laden in her arms that she had just retrieved from her bedroom. "Remind me again, sweetheart" she replied, knowing full well her daughter had been in good hands with the now Detective Inspector Noakes but the evening was starting to draw in and she was starting to wonder if two teenage boys were quite the influence her daughter needed.

Angela took a breath, wondering whether her mother was going silly in the head. "The school play!"

"Oh yes! Of course" Shelagh exclaimed, turning away and putting the tea towel back down by the sink. "One of the three witches!" she started, walking up towards her daughter and taking up the costume that needed adjusting to fit. "Come along then, we should be able to pin it at least before your Dad gets home".

So Angela stood on the table in the front room watching her mother crawl around on her knees, pinning the hem to just above her ankle. They'd already got her boots, the hat compiled of cardboard was sitting in the dining room but Angela was missing one very vital ingredient and Shelagh had asked and asked but no-one seemed to have one they could borrow.

"There!" she said suddenly sitting up on her haunches. "Take it off and I can tack it up".

"What are we going to do about the you-know-what?" Angela asked, so conscious of what was missing from her ensemble.

"I've tried everywhere and the School did say we mustn't spend much money on the costumes" Shelagh replied as her daughter looked down to her. "That material cost a fortune before we even started!"

"If I don't have it Mum, I'll be the odd one out!" Angela replied stepping down with a thump from the table as her mother stood up.

"I know darling!" Shelagh responded gently holding onto her daughter's arm. "I did have one idea though" she said with a smile and Angela watched her turn away. Carefully the 15 year old took off her costume and before she was entirely out of it Shelagh reappeared and stood before her.

"Well?" the former Sister asked.

Carefully pulling the costume away from her head, Angela's eyes carefully scanned the object presented to her and a look of horror crossed her face. "MUM! NO! Just...NO!"

"What?" Shelagh replied. "It's a perfectly good alternative!"

"Don't be preposterous, Mum! I'm not taking a HOOVER into school! Witches have BROOMSTICKS!" she screeched as she stormed out.

Shelagh sighed, deciding not to run after her finding she only had herself to talk to. "Well I thought it was a good idea..."


	3. Chapter 3

C…. is for **Cwtch _(Patsy and Peter)_**

"You look like I feel" Peter said quietly as he stood on the back step to Nonnatus, two mugs of tea in his hands.

Patsy looked up as he sat next to her and handed her a cup. "Thank you" she replied with only a faint smile on her face. "I was just taking the air".

"Poplar air?!" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know…" Patsy replied as she shook her head. "Poplar air and our lungs might not be the best of friends but.…it's quiet this morning. I just thought have a moment".

"It is quiet" he responded taking a sip of tea. Neither felt like talking and they sat in silence for a few minutes, just watching the clouds drift across the early morning sky.

"How's Chummy?" the nurse asked all of a sudden. She knew he'd done a week of nights and was off back to the Home soon enough.

"Really well, thank you" he smiled. He'd only spoken to her ten minutes ago to tell her he was on his way. Well, he got Freddie first who had taken to answering the telephone copying his mother and answering it _'Aston Lodge'_. "She's coming to see Sister Julienne on Friday" Peter offered, thinking she might like to see the girls and vice versa. "At lunchtime".

"Social visit?" Patsy asked, turning her tea cup in her hands, thinking it had been an age since she had to the Home.

"Not really" he responded, pausing for a second even though he was internally dying to tell someone and now seemed as good a time as any. "They've found someone else for the Home. We're moving back to Poplar at the end of next month".

Patsy's eyes widened. "Oh! Now that is really rather wonderful!"

"I know" Peter replied. It would actually feel as though they were a proper family again without these absences. He didn't like seeing the difference in Freddie even after a week away; even if it was just a few new words or the fact that he had missed Freddie's first run on the second hand tricycle that one of the neighbours had given him.

"I'd never say that smile doesn't tell me you're pleased!" Patsy commented as Peter sighed.

"I just don't like them being there and I'm down here. Thought I could live with it at first….." He drifted off with a shrug of the shoulders.

"I know" Patsy replied, putting her tea down on the ground between her feet. Whilst Delia was here, resident at Nonnatus, the pair were still far too careful and it still felt as though there was a world of distance. How she longed that they could just be free to be themselves. "I learned a very good word from a wise woman I know. It's an essential word for when you feel like you're not with it".

"Oh?"

"Mmmm" she replied, sliding her arm underneath his elbow. She felt him hesitate. "I know its not done for a married man to be quite so intimate with anyone but his wife…" Patsy continued. "But you can promise Chummy she has no competition from me".

"So what's the word?" Peter asked, reassured and knowing really that if anything, he'd never do anything about it anyway.

"Cwtch" Patsy responded, seeing a questioning look on his face. "It means safe place….. if you give someone a cwtch, you're giving them a safe place…."

"Cwtch" Peter repeated, shifting an inch closer and tightening the link between their arms.

"I'll have to remember that".


	4. Chapter 4

D is for….. _**Diamond (Noakes Family)**_

"What do think then?" Freddie whispered as he propped up the kitchen door frame. A cup of coffee was placed in his hand by his brother; the pair summoned to the family home for a reason.

"You know he was always going to…." Philip offered, folding over a tea towel that he was carrying, hearing his older brother laugh.

"Yeah, I know that, but do you think he'll actually make it?"

"You mean when his knees go and we'll have to haul him bodily up from the floor and do our backs in in the process?!" Philip replied as he leant against the kitchen counter to face his sibling, waiting for their parents to come home.

"That" Fred replied, "and the fact Mum will murder him slowly. You know she doesn't like a fuss being made of her".

"I know that, you know that. _DAD_ knows that but it won't stop him trying…." Philip responded as with a smile shared with his brother, both heard the key go in the front door. "Here we go…." he whispered. "Straight face, brother mine. Remember, we know nothing about this…!"

They turned into the hallway and both brothers saw their father almost pushing their mother into the sitting room. Seeing their sons there Peter gave them a conspiratorial wink and they followed.

In the sitting room, Chummy sat only to find her husband still in his coat, standing in front of her. There was almost a flash of that apprehensive young policeman she had seen standing on the step of Nonnatus all those years ago. "What's wrong?!" she asked, thinking he was about to deliver some horrific news if that face was anything to go by

Peter swallowed and fished in his pocket, hiding the content - which had gone with them on their walk - in his palm. "I bought you something". He did contemplate going the whole hog but he knew the boys might have to give him a hand up, so decided against it. In the alternative he sat next to his wife and opened up her hand.

"You bought me something?" she asked, seeing the blue velvet box that had been placed in her palm. "It's not my birthday"

Peter smiled and slipped his hand around the back of her waist and she felt a brief squeeze to her hip. "I know it isn't". He almost wanted to laugh. She hadn't changed a bit. "Open it".

Cautiously, just catching his eye for a second, she opened up the small clasp and saw the diamond in front of her.

"It's vintage" Peter said taking the box from her and turning in his seat. "Was around when we were kids". He saw another look of confusion cross her face and her eyes begin to fill with water as he pushed her long-awaited engagement ring onto her finger, seeing the boys with cups of coffee in their hands in the sitting room doorway.

"Not every day you can witness your parents getting engaged" Philip commented casually. "Particularly forty years after the event!"

"Shush..." his mother responded, not even looking at him as she was mesmerised by the rock on her finger. She might have been touching over seven decades in age but she couldn't help but feel like that shy girl that existed in 1957, courted by her policeman. She smiled and leant across to kiss him.

"Should we even be witnessing this? We're of far too a delicate disposition to witness such depravity….." their eldest son offered, obviously joking, but something nobody missed.

"Fred" Peter replied, barely breaking the kiss. "Go away and leave me and your mother alone. Bugger off. Both of you."

As they stepped away, leaving them to it, Chummy had a question for her husband.

"Remind me again why we had those two?"


	5. Chapter 5

E is for…. ** _Eggs (Patrick and Shelagh)_**

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Patrick offered from his seat at the kitchen table, wondering why his wife had what could only be described as a scowl on her face as she apparently could not take her eyes off his face.

"I'm not looking at you", Shelagh offered, staring intently at something as she leant against the worktop a tea towel draped over one arm.

"Well you're doing a fantastic impression of it" he joked in response, glancing quickly back down to his paper.

"I'm not looking at you" Shelagh repeated. "I'm looking at that". She gestured just past Patrick's head to the wall behind him, although he turned seeing nothing whatsoever of interest. "That" Shelagh continued, pointing again. "That mark"

He turned properly and sure enough saw – and remembered – that small, decaying brown scar on the wall that no matter how hard she scrubbed it, it never seemed to disappear. "Oh" he said, turning back, "THAT mark". Patrick went back to his newspaper. "When you tried to injure me maliciously" he said innocently turning a page, "in fact, almost assaulted me if your aim wasn't so appalling".

"I thought it was hard boiled" Shelagh replied. "It must have been swopped in the fridge with a fresh one".

"So" Patrick responded, folding up the paper and putting it aside as this needed exploring. "Had the egg you threw at me been hard boiled – and only by a quirk of fate that it was not - and NOT hit the wall, I do feel that you might have caused me some injury.."

She knew full well he was teasing her. "No.." Shelagh pleaded, trying not to smile at the sudden memory of taking aim and his face as he tried, and ultimately succeeded to duck out of the way.

"Yes, it was" he replied, folding his arms in challenge. "A hard-boiled egg, taken, _with intention_ and it was only by chance that it wasn't. You _intended_ to at least ruin one of my decent shirts if not scar me for life".

"A hard-boiled egg is highly unlikely to draw blood….or even bruise!" Shelagh retorted with a smile, unable to avoid the twinkle in his eye.

"Why _did_ you throw it at me?" Patrick asked, sitting back in his chair. He remembered the incident now, just not the cause and he saw a sly smile. "Go on…."

Shelagh pressed her lips together. "Your objection to my cooking skills if I seem to recall…"

"Oh, yes" Patrick replied, eyebrows raised and seeing his wife's cheeks go pink. "The pineapple upside down cake that wasn't upside down!"

"That wasn't my fault. I was distracted!" She exclaimed turning quickly back to the sink remembering precisely how mortified she was when Tim pointed out the precise problem – 'Mum, the pineapple should be on the bottom!' - and the very reason she had not been paying attention to what she was doing until it was too late. "It was you that distracted me!"

"Me?" Patrick replied, before memories caught up with him again. "Oh…." He began, pushing his chair away with a scrape and standing up and walking towards her. "That was me wasn't it…." She felt his palms go to her hips repeating the action that led to the incident in the first place.

"Patrick…" Shelagh warned, turning in his arms, hands behind her back.

"What are you hiding?" he asked, eyeing her up as he squinted.

"I don't think you want to find out Patrick. This one IS hard-boiled!"


	6. Chapter 6

F is for…. ** _Fear (Chummy and Delia)_**

(With thanks to Maccafan for the pairing)

Nonnatus seems quiet today, Delia noted as she walked downstairs. A hard night shift had been had and having had a few hours sleep, a cup of tea was calling. There was some noise – in fact a child's voice – coming from the kitchen already and as she got closer she could hear the source. A youngster by the name of Freddie singing a mangled version of one of his mother's Hindi nursery rhymes.

"Hello Freddie!" Delia smiled. "Where's your Mumma?"

"Telephone" Freddie replied, picking up a red crayon, not to be disturbed from his colouring book any time soon.

"Oh!" she responded, going to the cupboard to get down the tea bags. "Do you want a drink too?"

"Tea please" Freddie asked and Delia hesitated in her surprise. She expected orange squash.

"Cold tea" she heard from her side as Chummy walked through from the Hallway, correcting her son. "He likes cold tea. Just make it very _very_ milky. Freddie can you go and see if Sister Julienne is still in the dining room?"

The four year old slid off his chair.

"He's well behaved!" Delia noted as Chummy sat down.

"That's Peter" she replied with a smile. The conversation died for a moment. Although Delia had been a Nonnatus resident for a while now, Chummy had been up at the Home and then back living out of the Convent so they had barely had time to have a proper conversation and neither could say, really, that they knew each other much.

"Would you like a cuppa too?" Delia asked in her lilting accent.

Chummy shook her head. There was a reason she had sent Freddie off to find the Sister and it was praying on her mind.

"Does Peter know yet?" Delia asked suddenly, abandoning her and Freddie's tea for a moment.

Chummy shook her head. "I can't tell him" she replied, not thinking – wondering – how on earth Delia knew she was to be a mother for a second time.

"He'll notice soon" Delia replied, coming to sit down. "Have you been sick?" Before she could reply Delia hesitated and waved her hands in the air. "I'm sorry!" she pleaded. "Speaking before my brain thinks these days! Pats told me. When you asked her to examine you and confirm it. It slipped out".

Chummy shook her head. "It doesn't matter". Delia hadn't been around when Freddie was born but she knew that the Nurse had worked with Peter in the past if ever they needed the St John's. He'd probably had conversations longer than his wife.

"Fear's an awful thing" Delia started, having listened to Patsy's concerns about her patient. "When I had my accident, even though I don't really remember much of what happened now, I do remember the fear. Fear of not knowing myself, fear of what my life would be like, fear of the _unknown_ ".

She saw a tear trickle down the other nurse's face and Delia stood up and dashed around to the other side of the table. "I'm never going to have any little ones of my own…" she started, "but I know what it's like to be so terribly frightened that you're not even sure how to describe it".

"You're not?" Chummy asked through her tears. "Never say never. I never thought I'd find a husband. You're much younger than me…Plenty of time".

Delia smiled to herself, but let the comment go. "Think of all the wonderful things that have been though since. Think of the first time Freddie walked or the first time you had a proper conversation with him. All of that makes up for it surely?"

Chummy laughed for a second. "Yes….it does" she replied wiping the tears from her chin. "When he smiles at me, it makes up for all the worry".

"There you go then" Delia responded, squeezing Chummy's shoulder. There were things now – people in her life – that stood by her; made up for all those confusing, terrifying flashes of memory that would emerge out of the mists from time to time. "Tell him. He needs to know".

As she stepped away back to the kettle, Delia knew full well what fear could do to you. She hoped the nurse who was now fishing in her bag for her handkerchief would take up her words.

If not, she would still be there to help.


	7. Chapter 7

G is for….. **_Giggles (Trixie and Nonnatus)_**

Her hand hovered an inch before she pressed the doorbell. Nonnatus was a different place now; stripped bare of its fixtures and fittings now all these years had passed for some other function, but those old brick walls still stood strong.

Jenny had told her she had been back too, kindly let in on an impromptu visit by its new inhabitants and it was that conversation that had taken Trixie to come 'home' probably this one last time.

She had travelled on her own; no husband, no children. This almost didn't seem to be the place for them. They were her life after Nonnatus and the friends she was still in touch with all these long years later.

As she walked inside, let in and thankfully allowed to wander at will, she walked straight to the old kitchen where they had spent many an hour hugging tea cups in the cold or discussing cases.

She smiled. She remembered who caused that crack in the glass in the door that was never repaired. Chummy. Rushing in after a date with Peter and slamming the door by accident. How she had changed too. Letters from Sierra Leone were not as frequent as they were but they were still filled with the joy she had found leaving England those two decades ago. Two boys and that surprise daughter that Chummy thought was the change of life and her darling Peter, successful and settled at last.

Trixie ran her finger across the frame and smiled at the image.

The oak staircase was still there too, leading up to all of their bedrooms. She found hers quickly and the room was, to her surprise, unlocked as she pushed it. Standing in the doorway it was all she could hear.

 _The freedom of laughter._ Of Jenny, Cynthia, Chummy, Delia, Patsy, Barbara and above all, of herself, giggling at a joke or just because they could. It was her voice she could hear above it all as the joy seemed to bounce off every wall as she walked deeper in the room and it spun around her head, assaulting her as all of those precious happy memories flooded back.

For a moment she thought she saw someone standing beside her. A diminutive figure dressed all in black. Her heart stopped at the image and her mood plummetted. Sister Mary Cynthia on her last days at Nonnatus when Sister Julienne had taken the most painful decision of her life to commit her to care. Everyone had said their goodbyes and whilst she too wrote letters she had long abandoned the habit and retreated to the seaside to find her peace. Trixie truly believed that she had so much further to travel and she couldn't stop herself this time, feeling those tears flow properly that she could do so little to help.

Trixie sat gingerly on a wooden chair against the wall and breathed.

 _"I wonder what this place will be like in the future.….."_ Barbara's voice sprang into her mind of that really rather melancholy conversation they had the day before Trixie's wedding; knowing she too was leaving immediately after.

"It's still here…" Trixie whispered. "And it hasn't changed one bit…."

Trixie wondered what had happened to Barbara. Such a sweet person. She had departed back to a job in Liverpool; Trixie almost glad that her relationship with Tom had fizzled away. As for him, she hadn't said a word to him since she set off away from Nonnatus forever.

And Delia and Patsy? Well, they were free at last.

The wedding was next week. That replaced the giggles and made Trixie smile more than anything.


	8. Chapter 8

H is for… ** _Hibernate (Peter & Freddie)_**

The moment he opened his eyes, Peter felt like he needed to shut them straight away again and quick smart. He knew yesterday he was brewing Fred's cold but his head felt as though it was in a bucket of water, eyes sore and feeling as though he could barely lift himself from the pillow. Not that he had the energy or wherewithal to talk of the truth.

Eyes closed again he heard someone say something. "What?" he replied vaguely, not wanting to bear the glaring overhead light in the attics of their temporary home.

"I said, you look like Hell", his wife replied from her position standing over him, laundry bundled up in her arms an arched eyebrow adorning her face.

"Thanks" Peter responded. "If you are going to be so blunt about it..." She didn't miss the sarcasm but she also saw him rather pale and that heaviness behind his eyes. He decided that he needed to sit up if the tonne weight that was currently his head would let him but she could tell his room was spinning. Chummy placed her palm on his forehead. "Almost as warm as your son".

"What's he like this morning?" Peter asked, running his palm across his face and seeing the empty cot to the side of their bed.

"Rattly" Chummy replied, going over to the chest of drawers on the other wall. "But I've given him his antibiotics. Poor chap didn't even try and fight me". She had left him in his playpen although with the scowl she saw on her son's face she knew full well he was in no mood to start building blocks or pretending to read one of his many brightly-coloured books.

Peter nodded. He needed the bathroom and could just to do with a cool flannel draped across his face to take that temperature that he clearly had a notch or two down. Thank God it was Sunday and he'd be nowhere near the Station today. As he wandered off, almost dragging himself out the room because he really did feel awful, Chummy carefully put the ironing away. She herself was only counting down the days when she would that first snuffle or sneeze.

As he finished his ablutions Peter crept across into the sitting room, seeing the back of his son's blonde hair as he waited forlornly for someone - _anyone, just anyone_ \- to free him of yet another infection. He could hear Freddie mithering and whinging, followed by an almighty sneeze. "Fred?" Peter asked, walking across. All he got in return was almost a squeak of a cry and a pair of very watery eyes as the boy turned around and pulled himself up and raised his arms to Daddy to be picked up.

"Come here mate" Peter said, leaning over the side of the playpen to him. She was right. He was boiling, even though he was already stripped down to his vest and nappy. "Come in with Daddy, we can infect each other, can't we?" The boy was spirited off; Peter hearing that his wife had now decamped to the kitchen and the kettle was whistling away. No doubt that was for some honey and lemon concoction and not the strong tea he would rather be after.

Crossing to their bedroom with indeed that honey and lemon in her hands, Chummy wondered why it had suddenly gone quiet. The playpen was empty and she had heard no crying so she could be assured that Freddie had not tried to make an escape over the bars. Rightly so she assumed they were together. But it was quiet. Too quiet for them not to be up to no good.

Creeping into the room she certainly found father and son. She didn't think, however, they would appreciate the fact that they looked like a pair of tortoises, curled up and buried to sleep for the winter. Hibernating, she might just say.

Chummy just smiled and left them to it.


	9. Chapter 9

**I is for**... Ice (Trixie/Barbara/Patsy/Delia)

In an excited heap, Trixie, Barbara, Patsy and Delia departed Nonnatus and jumped on the bus to their destination. They were actually feeling like teenagers again on a trip out, bundled up against the cold air on a rare afternoon when they could go out and enjoy themselves and enjoy themselves they planned to do.

"So have any of you been before?" Trixie asked as they ran all the way up the stairs to the upper deck of the bus, condensation dripping down the windows so they couldn't see out.

"Years ago" Delia replied as they sat down; the four seats at the front being free. "When I lived in Cardiff my Aunty used to take us all the time. Have you ever gone Pats?"

"Never!" the red haired nurse responded, half dreading this afternoon if she was being honest. "You might have to give me a hand up every five minutes, but I'll have a good old go at it!"

"Barbara?" Trixie asked. They were sitting next to each other and Patsy and Delia on the other side; the other two not bothering to notice that the latter had their arms linked as they sat down.

"A long, long while ago, but I suppose it's like riding a bike" Barbara replied as the three others looked at her incredulously. "Maybe…possibly!" she laughed. "I'll tell you when I get there!"

Trixie smiled. She might have liked to have asked Cynthia but that was impossible now. She missed their chats and she knew Cynthia might have enjoyed it. "Did you ask Chummy?" Barbara inquired, seeing Trixie nod.

'Not in a million bally years…you will not get me on ice-skates for all money in the world!'Patsy chipped in, having borne witness to Chummy's absolutely refusal to go with them even under an enormous amount of pressure exerted upon her by her friends.

"That was a rather good impression there Pats!" Delia teased. The four laughed but it was no means malicious. They only truly had the freedom to go because the other nurse had told the Sisters she could hold the fort with them. So they went without her; with screams of laughter, wobbling along and falling left right and centre the four had a rather wonderful day before returning 'home' to Nonnatus.

It was Chummy that they ran - or indeed hobbled to - to tend their bruises too!


	10. Chapter 10

J is for... **Jump (Sister Bernadatte/Shelagh)**

Her eyes opened gently to a new day; for a moment fighting the glare of the early morning as it streaked through the Sanatorium window, bathing her room in a bright glow of promise.

Well again; well 'enough' the Doctor had said to be discharged but really where could she, or perhaps _should_ she go? She knew full well her Sisters would care and would wish her back at Nonnatus faster than they could blink but all knew that it could never happen in a month of Sundays. No, this was a fresh beginning for all concerned and as she sat up and gently lifted her legs from the bed, Shelagh saw the suitcase she had packed last night leaning against the wall. She sat for a moment and contemplated its casual presence.

All her possessions in the world were stored there, all tidied neatly and sealed away. Not much to show for almost a thirty-year life she would be the first to admit, but it was almost refreshing in its cleanliness. A life to start anew, a new order and it began with today.

Entirely sure, she thought, of her plans Shelagh dressed in her conservative suit and heavy coat as, once she had regarded the world outside the window, it seemed somewhat misty this morning. She would start her trip early; give herself plenty of time to find her way back to wherever her heart was calling her. Doing up the last button she smiled to herself. Finding her way back…how _appropriate._

Sister Bernadette suddenly seemed to very many miles away but now she was Shelagh; back to that young girl leaving Scotland for London and now leaving London for where? Decisions were required to be made. A new home and how she would love to continue nursing but all of a sudden she wondered if Poplar was the place? She had ties there, she would never say otherwise, but was it the place to really begin this life in this new guise?

The chasm before her seemed deep and endless and it almost blocked her road, but she knew she had to jump. Jump higher than she had ever done before and risk that leap into the unknown.

There was a draw back there though that she could not avoid no matter how hard she tried. That was something that she could no longer hide or deny herself. The draw in the form of a man she had known for years, yet he had only known her behind a habit and been forbidden from sight. She had, however, to find herself and her true heart all in one and - as the Sanatorium door shut behind her for the last time - this was her most pivotal point in time it seemed.

And so, looking out onto that almost endless foggy road, she jumped. And began to fly...


	11. Chapter 11

**_For the guest reviewer who asked for Patsy & Delia :) _**

K is for... **Keepsake (Patsy & Delia)**

Patsy breathed deeply watching the first few flakes of snow begin their soft descent from the sky above Poplar. So glad she was not trailing around the streets tonight she continued to watch; almost hypnotised by the flakes as they spun. Unconsciously she had taken a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders; cosy and safe as the quiet of the evening and those memories had engulfed her.

A door down below her slammed shut and she felt the reverberations through the floor, breaking her out of her melancholy. For a second she wondered if that was someone coming in or going out but her questions were answered a minute later when the door across the room opened behind her. She turned and smiled at the dark haired – and extremely pink cheeked – nurse who had appeared.

"Cold?!" Patsy offered with a smile, turning back towards the window watching the sky as it turned a deeper shade of purple. All she heard was a deep breath in return and the wardrobe door open; Delia whipping out her dressing gown to wrap herself in to defrost. She was soaked to the skin, relatively sure she couldn't feel her feet and oh so pleased to be home. Kicking off her shoes, her stockings were damp, but after this evening, Delia simply did not have the energy to be worrying and was more concerned about being under cover.

Instead she padded over to the window and stood with Patsy, leaning arm against arm and shoulder to shoulder; both staring now at the vast sky and the snow that was now falling quick smart from it. Delia stood for a minute, drawing welcome warmth and comfort before she glanced to her side and noted Patsy's arms were crossed and in her left hand she was clearly holding tight onto something. Patsy noticed she was looking and knew she had to. She had no choice really as Delia had seen it and would inevitably ask.

Her companion watched in silence and Patsy unfolded her arms and presented Delia with a small wooden doll, roughly carved and clearly the worse for wear. It must have been only three inches in height if that.

"Where did she come from?" Delia asked quietly taking the figure as it was passed to her. She could tell Patsy was anxious, pressing her lips together almost trying to prevent tears or words but she was not really sure which.

"I found her in my belongings" Patsy began; her voice breaking. "I was looking for an old address book and she was in the pocket of my suitcase. She was my friend….." She drifted away for a second and Delia recognised the look on her face.

"From the camp?" she asked tentatively seeing Patsy swallow carefully.

"We weren't allowed toys or even the simplest things to play with…except there was a man there" Patsy stated, the memories so fresh in her mind and ones that had engulfed her the moment she reached inside the pocket and found it. "He called himself Samuel but nobody knew what his real name was. He made me that. He was a carpenter and he made me promise I would keep her forever".

"And you did" Delia replied, holding the doll in both of her palms as though it was the most precious thing in the world. Well it was to her love beside her.

"I'd like you to have her…." Patsy continued, turning around and closing Delia's hands around the doll so it was hidden from sight. She had already made up her mind.

"Pats…I can't!" Delia replied, almost horrified that she would give something like this way; something that even in its small stature held so much.

"You can" Patsy responded, holding tight. "A keepsake. Keep her safe for me".

Delia paused before she spoke. She could tell from Patsy's face that she was serious and Delia nodded. "Of course I will. I will keep her forever."

"I will keep her... Always".


	12. Chapter 12

L is for….. **Liberation** (Chummy….with a brief side order of Peter)

The sea breeze felt particularly divine as it gently swooped over her skin, caressing her cheeks and her uncovered hands.

Chummy stood, wrapped up in her winter coat and scarf, inhaling the odd mix of brine and yesterday's fish and chips. Around her the seaside town was silent; waiting to start its new day as a seagull strutted confidently along the road behind her.

Below her, from her lofty position on the promenade, the glistening tide water lapped at the sea wall; a backdrop of tranquillity for a heart that – for the time being at least – remained untroubled. The sun was barely up and indeed, with a quick glance side to side, apart from that seagull she was pretty much alone.

She had slipped away from the hotel just after dawn leaving her new husband sleeping; hoping to be back before he woke and wondered where she was and no doubt send out a million search parties. Sliding out of bed, she had crept to the bathroom and to dress, standing in the doorway for a moment to watch the rise and fall of his chest as he slept soundly. With a brief smile, she had gently closed the door behind her and rushed down the stairs. Thankfully the landlady didn't see her either. She wasn't sure how to answer any questions.

Chummy knew she would have to be quick but she had a mission about her that required only her sole attention and this was something she couldn't quite share just yet.

Ramsgate may have only been a train ride but with yesterday, the band on her finger and his love, it may well have been a world away. Her mother's stone cold face as they turned to their congregation of friends was a blur now and her leaving the reception early, a mere blip. It may have only been a band of metal, something simple and plain that adorned her finger but its connotations were deep.

Tied, yet free in the very same breath. Camilla Fortesque-Cholmondley-Browne no longer existed with her tongue twister of a name and its past privilege. Camilla Noakes existed in the here and now and she was here standing, hands gripping the metal balustrade that decorated the seafront. The chipped white paint scratched at her palms but, breathing deeply in the fresh morning air, it was the dawning of a new era it would seem.

Still standing on the promenade the minutes were ticking by but Chummy had no intention of stopping the smile that broke out from her innermost core. She breathed again. In and out, in and out, drowning her soul in this feeling of renewal; this feeling of …

She couldn't put into words what today meant, except for one and she knew immediately what it was.

Liberation.


	13. Chapter 13

M is for….. **Midnight** (Tom, Peter  & Barbara)

He stood looking over the façade of Nonnatus and waited. 'Give it five minutes' he thought to himself. Just to make sure she was safe and wait for the light to go on in her room, that was all. He looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to midnight and Tom only had to walk back over to the Vicarage but that wasn't the point. Something rooted him to the spot just under the streetlamp until he could be absolutely sure and then he would sleep well.

Behind him he didn't hear the footsteps that wandered up beside him. "I used to do that you know",a voice came out of the darkness; on that he recognised. Tom smiled and turned to Peter who was now standing to his right. "Well at the old Nonnatus that was. Wait for her light to go on".

"Can't explain it" Tom responded, shaking his head as the pair stood, unwittingly mirroring each other's behaviours with arms crossed their chests. If she was safe, his heart would be at peace until he saw her again.

"Me neither" Peter replied with a wide smile at the memory. "Just made me feel a bit better to know she was up there in her room. That she'd dodged Sister Evangelina safely!"

Tom smiled. "I forget you had to contend with Sister Evangelina too".

"We did", the officer replied shaking his head at the many times he had managed to get her back to Nonnatus with minutes to spare. "Camilla would often say she'd find her standing in the hallway waiting for her an looking at her watch. It was only because she cared", he added hastily. He remembered those days. Lingering by the old steps, sometimes spotting the Sister as Camilla closed the door behind her, but realising why she was there all the same. He ws quite glad, underneath it, that Sister Evangelina even bothered to look out for her.

Above their heads, a light switched on. "There you go" Peter smiled and the two men turned away strolled across to the Vicarage, Tom satisfied that was her room. Not that he actually knew but it still made him feel better. Peter was not for telling he knew exactly where Camilla's room had been before.

"So… are you going to marry her?" Peter's question was blunt. It was his own wedding anniversary coming up in a few weeks and it was on his mind. 5 years and he had plans for them all, plotted with his four year old son who was starting to understand and, as Peter found, could keep a secret very well. Perhaps it had been the promise of a visit to the Zoo if didn't say a word to Mumma.

"After the debacle last time?" Tom replied with a laugh. Not to get him wrong. He loved Barbara but he was still fearful of repetition. He was not sure he could stay here if she refused and he loved living in Poplar and serving its people.

"You can't tar Barbara with the same brush as Trixie" Peter replied. From the little he knew of either of them they were entirely different prospects.

Tom nodded carefully. "I have thought about it. Wondered how she might react, wondered if she might". Wondered if she might want more than him; whether being a nurse meant more.

"Well you can only ask" Peter replied. "Camilla turned me down but perseverance paid off".

"She did?"

Peter nodded. It felt like a million years ago, not five.

Tom stopped just outside the vicarage door. "I have thought about it a lot".

"Then ask. _She might just say yes_ ".

As the Sergeant walked away, Tom took one last glance at Nonnatus and one last look at his watch as it struck midnight exactly. Then he realised. Today was one year to the day since he proposed to Trixie and look where that ended up.

Maybe this next year would be different.


	14. Chapter 14

**N is for... Night (Patsy)**

 **For the reviewer who asked for Patsy on her own.**

It was the dark that brought it all. Silence of a room clothed only in streetlight seeming to compound the hostility of those memories as they would slither from the recesses of those decades ago.

A chill shot over her arms and down her spine. It was always the dark. It was always the night. That's when it came. That's when she heard those noises again, inhaled that putrid smell as it wafted under her nose, real as the blankets that covered her and the roof that now housed her. Real, it would seem, as though it was only yesterday.

Patsy curled up tighter, dragging the covers over her shoulder, sighing and willing sleep to come ever so quickly.

She had only been at Nonnatus two nights and whilst everyone seemed so lovely, and it seemed like new start, it was when the darkness closed in that caused it and she prayed for day again.

Hiding, _forcing_ herself into the smallest corner she could find underneath the wooden bunk beds closest to the wall where she couldn't be found she hoped. Patsy could still see the feet walking back and forth, back and forth and back and forth again looking for her; wondering where the child had gone and stopping at the doorway. Patsy was sure she had not made a sound, but those boots always came.

She'd disappeared. That was true. Falling back into the recesses of her own mind, not understanding what was going on around her and wondering what had befallen her to live a life like this. The camp became all she knew; no, perhaps all she could recall. Those happy memories seemed to have been force so far down it would take the Almighty to dig them out once more.

Patsy shivered with cold; that memory forcing itself into view of those feet again, pointing directly towards her. Boots. Heavy boots. Standing there, someone high about her speaking in a language of words dripping with anger and disgust. A thump rang down on the bunk bed above her, its reverberations she could still feel now as the wood shook only an inch from her head as she forced her knees closer to her chest, hoping if she was tiny enough she might just disappear. It was much like she lay now, arms clutched around her knees, willing peace.

Then came the hand that dragged her by the ankle, scraping her skin against the ground as small hands tried to snatch hold of the frame above her to hold on fast or somehow delay what was becoming inevitable. She knew she shouldn't shout, scream, cry or even whimper. That would just make it worse and she knew what was coming.

Yes, it was the peace of the night that made it happen.

Hopefully the joy of a new day and a new place would allow her to forget.


	15. Chapter 15

**O is for… Oceans (Trixie, Jenny, Chummy)**

It may have been trains and buses, aeroplanes and cars that had brought them there but whilst road and seas and continents had been crossed there was only one reason that they returned.

Three different girls – no, women – bound together by a common purpose and even when those miles divided them, this place was always a magnet drawing them back time on time.

Nonnatus itself; the place that had housed them so many ears before, was long gone. Bricks were buried into the mysts underneath flats and houses as Poplar boomed but each one knew exactly where to walk to find it, stand outside and breathe again.

People they knew had gone too – mourned in some cases - but with some just the falling away of letters and telephone calls as lives progressed and changed that left these three to remember.

Each would visit, together and apart, bringing children and grandchildren, to tell them of friendship, old bricks and faces past. The images were as new; remembering the early days, the joys, the sadness's and each and every battle they fought for themselves or others. It was almost as though neither of them would run out of stories or tales to tell.

It was a long time ago, but each memory was fresh as though they lived it just yesterday and now, the three stood eyes cast over the streets where they would cycle and walk, laugh and cry and most of all, realise just exactly what made them who they were.

Not one needed to say a word; not a syllable uttered on this bright sunny day. It was almost as though they were transported back to those alleyways and streets; decrepit houses and tenements leaning over them and the people. Those people, living their lives among it and these girls just doing their best to help with what little they all seemed to have between them.

The shiny new façade of the buildings was a million years away not fifty and whilst these girls had travelled oceans to be here, it was as though nothing had ever changed.

It was a friendship that would survive it all and even all these years so little had changed; not even the water, land or the odd grey hair.

Oceans were still there but not one drop would separate them. Not a single drop.


End file.
